


Locum Tenens

by proskynesis



Category: Ancient History RPF, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: (because OC is a slave), Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proskynesis/pseuds/proskynesis
Summary: Quick PWP, set while Alexander and Hephaestion are apart.
Relationships: Alexandros III of Macedon | Alexander the Great/Hephaistion of Macedon, Hephaistion of Macedon/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Locum Tenens

The wine boy has been eyeing him up all evening. It’s not at all subtle – every time Hephaestion looks in his direction, the boy tries to catch his eye. 

It’s moving towards the end of the night. Hephaestion drains his wine and beckons the boy over, holds out his cup to be refilled. The boy keeps his eyes down as his pours, but as soon as that’s over he flicks them up again, bold, to meet Hephaestion’s.

Hephaestion lets his gaze linger for a few moments, making sure to look him up and down. The boy is about Alexander’s height, he would guess, and has something of his colouring too – bronzed hair and a slight ruddiness to his chest. But where Alexander tends towards stockiness, the boy is lithe and loose-limbed. Their eyes lock again; Hephaestion smiles, and the boy colours slightly. Then he’s called away to another couch. Hephaestion watches him go, moving gracefully between the dancers. 

Hephaestion turns away, back to the conversation with his couch-mate, who is saying something about Thracians. It’s a bit hard to make out, over the shouts and the trilling of flutes.

He excuses himself as soon as he’s able, pleading a headache. His couch-mate laughs and toasts him, wishing him a good night with a wink.

The wine boy is waiting for him in the corridor. They stand for a moment, considering each other.

Hephaestion nods back to the hall. “Aren’t you needed?”

The boy inclines his head. “No, it’s fine. There are others to take my place.” His accent is Ionian.

Hephaestion steps closer. “And your master won’t miss you?” He wants a proper fuck tonight, in his own bed, not some half-hearted fumble in a side room. 

The boy’s eyes glitter in the light of the torches. “No. He’s drunk.”

Hephaestion laughs. “Come on, then.”

Once back in his quarters, he has his slaves douse the main lights and then sends them out. The boy stands somewhat awkwardly throughout, as if unsure what to do now that they’re actually here. Or maybe that’s part of some act the boy thinks he will like. But Hephaestion is not in the mood for games tonight. He unpins and shrugs off his chiton, then takes a seat on the bed and indicates that the boy should undress as well.

Watching him do so, Hephaestion takes himself in hand. It doesn’t take long to get himself hard. The boy is beautiful, and obviously well aware of it, and the thought only arouses him more.

Soon the boy stands naked before Hephaestion, meeting his eyes once more. Hephaestion summons him to come nearer. Close up, he can smell the boy’s sweat and sense his thudding pulse. The boy makes to reach for Hephaestion’s cock, but Hephaestion pushes his hand away and indicates a chest in the corner. 

“The oil’s in there.”

The boy doesn’t need to be told twice. Hephaestion watches him gasp and squirm on the coverlet as he prepares himself, then turns him over onto his hands and knees. He slicks his cock with one hand and winds the other into the boy’s hair. It’s so like Alexander’s, though of course Alexander hasn’t had his this length for some time. With this thought Hephaestion positions himself and thrusts in. 

The boy takes him well, pushing back up against him eagerly, though he’s not quite as tight as Hephaestion would prefer. His high breathy pants and whines are a little distracting and theatrical. Maybe he’s been told that’s what men want. Hephaestion pushes his face down into the pillow in an attempt to quieten him. 

He closes his eyes and settles into a rhythm, fucking the boy with long unhurried strokes, letting it build, wanting to make it last in a way he hasn’t done for a while. Not since he was last with Alexander, in fact. But that memory makes Hephaestion inadvertently speed up, and with it comes the idea that Alexander himself, wherever he is, might be doing the exact same thing that he’s doing right now, fucking some pretty boy he’s taken into his bed for the night. He imagines – recalls – Alexander’s harsh pants as he drives forward, his thighs working, his sharp cry as he reaches climax and paints the back of the boy’s thighs with his seed. Hephaestion curses and fucks his own boy harder, causing him to yelp and clench down. At this Hephaestion, surprised, yanks on his hair and comes with a grunt, inside the boy.

He flops down next to the boy, listens to their combined breathing until it evens out. Lying here in the aftermath with a warm body next to his, he almost imagines that he’s elsewhere. He’s halfway to dozing when he hears the boy speak, shattering the illusion. 

“Can I have some wine?”

Hephaestion yawns and stretches. “On the table. Blow out the lamps before you go.”

He feels the bed shift as the boy gets off it. Hephaestion turns over, drawing the blanket around himself, and drifts off to sleep, listening to the boy take a drink and then slip out. 

His last waking thought is that he must write to Alexander tomorrow.


End file.
